by Katie Ford
No. Not break my own heart. I would be saving it.
Deep breaths. Okay. You can do this.
I take another trembling breath and sit up in the bed. My hair tumbles around my face, sticking to my damp cheeks and neck. I’m sure I look like a hot mess, my exterior matching the shambles I am on the inside. But it doesn’t matter.
With a fortifying sigh, I reach over into the bedside table and open the drawer. The metal box containing my past with Brent gleams under the light, silvery and cool. I put my hand on top of it and close my eyes.
While we’ve been having our new affair, I’ve kept the box close to me. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would reach into the nightstand and pull out the box. Then, with it sitting on my chest while I lay in bed on my back, I hoped and prayed that Brent would soon remember who I am and what we meant to each other.
But that never happened. I have to face the fact that it most likely won’t. Not ever.
A tear falls down my cheek and splatters on top of the box, making a hollow sound. Then another tear, and another. It’s like my sadness is knocking on the box, begging for it to open up and spill all of the secrets of the past.
I open the box and reach blindly in for what I’m looking for. The emerald necklace. The symbol of the broken promise he’d made to me all those years ago. With trembling fingers, I fasten the necklace around my throat.
Am I really going to do this?
The dread in my belly says yes. The resolution in my broken heart says I have to.
Okay. Here goes.
Stomach roiling, I grab my purse and head for the door.
“You’re really going to do it?” Mandy is sitting on the couch, looking over some papers for work. She has her glasses on and a half-finished glass of water near the stack of papers. Her eyes on me are like laser beams, focused and probing.
“How do you know what I’m going to do?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Because it looks like you’re walking to your death.” She frowns.
Isn’t that what I’m doing, though? Killing off any link to my only love and to the life we’d promised each other we’d have together?
“I have to do it.” I cross my arms over my chest. All I’m doing now is trying to hold myself together.
“I know, honey.” She puts her papers aside and gets to her feet. In seconds, she crosses the room and pulls me into her arms. “I’m sorry it has come to this.” She rubs my back in slow circles. “I know you love him.”
“Yeah, I do,” I sob. Then, because I can’t rely on her strength for too long, I pull back and clear the tears from my throat. “I’ll be back soon.”
She frowns again. “Do you want me to come with you? I can wait outside in the car and whisk you away from the scene as soon as it’s done.” She’s talking like it’ll be a murder or something. But I appreciate that she wants to be there for me. She is the best, best friend any girl could ever wish for.
“Thanks, but I have to do it on my own.” I nervously toy with the emerald necklace at my throat. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“You better.”
After giving me another long hug and an encouraging smile, she lets me go.
My feet are steady when I walk out of the house and up to my car, even when I get behind the wheel. But as I’m driving to his apartment, all the memories of what Brent and I had been to each other, what we’d done together, flooded over me.
Our first kiss.
The moment Brent gave me the emerald necklace.
The day he took my virginity and replaced it with the most beautiful experience I’d had in my young life up until then.
Us dancing together at prom.
And the more recent memories too. The ones that mean even more because they tell who we are today as separate people and how we’d be as a couple.
Oh God! Can I do it? Can I give all of these things up and settle for heartbreak in their place?
I don’t have a choice, though, do I?
Finally, I pull the car into the parking lot of Brent’s small apartment complex. But as soon as I turn off the engine and take the key out of the ignition, the tremors set in.
Oh Jesus... oh God.
My hands are shaking so hard it looks like I’m trying to rip off the steering wheel. I gasp out a sob and drop my hands into my lap. My fingers twist desperately together.
Okay. You have to calm down.
Calm. Down.
It takes forever, but I eventually do get it together.
Taking a big breath, I look at myself in the rearview mirror.
My reflection looks terrible. My skin is flushed, and my eyes are rimmed with tears. I didn’t bother with makeup before I walked out–they don’t make mascara waterproof enough for breaking up with the love of my life.
The emerald glints in the hollow of my collarbone. The chain has warmed to my skin, and now it almost feels like a noose.
Wear me and you’ll never move on, the necklace seems to say.
Wear me and you’ll never heal.
Clearing my throat, I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and climb out of the car. I walk across the parking lot and then up the stairs toward his door. The final steps to Brent’s front door are the longest I’ve ever taken. For a moment, I almost turn around and run back to the car and then back to the safety of my house.
Instead, I force myself to knock.
Brent answers at once. When he sees me, he goes pale. He steps back from the door, and I follow him inside the apartment, intent on having my say. Vaguely, I’m aware of the door slamming shut behind him.
“How could you?” my voice quivers and shakes as I speak. “How could you do that to me?”
I grab onto the necklace, searching for strength to survive this confrontation, to tell him how I feel without giving in to my foolish love and letting him keep thinking that I’m just another woman he met at a bar and took home to fuck. I want to be so much more than that, but his lack of memories won’t let that happen.
A look of agony spasms across Brent’s pale face, and he holds up his hands. “Claire,” he pleads. His voice breaks. “Hold on–I need to explain—”“
“No!” I shout. The tears that have been plaguing me for weeks spring to my eyes again and begin streaming hotly down my face. My cheeks burn with shame and agony and anger. “You left me!” I scream at him, not caring who hears my raised voice. “After everything that we’d been through, you left me!”
“Goddamn it, Claire, I have amnesia!” Brent shouts back. His face is red, and his intense blue eyes are trained on me, burning me. “I go fucking hurt in Syria, okay? I lost my fucking mind!”
My heart leaps into my throat, and my knees buckle underneath of me.
He has amnesia? He’d gotten hurt? “What? What did you say?”
But I knew I’d heard him right the first time. He had gotten hurt overseas. He had been almost killed.
Oh my God! I could’ve lost him completely.
I feel myself falling down, down, down to the floor, but before I hit, I fall into the safety of Brent’s strong arms. He’s shaking almost as much as I am.
“I lost my memory,” Brent says in a low growl. He pulls me close and presses his lips to mine before I can push him away.
For a second, the kiss is static. But then my heart begins to pound once more, and Brent’s words begin to sink in. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him passionately, kiss him with every cell in my body.
“Claire,” Brent growls into my mouth. He breaks away and holds my face in his hand, staring deeply into my eyes. His blue orbs blaze brightly into me like the hottest and brightest sun. “I love you.”
A shiver runs through me, and I collapse against the love of my life with relief and gratitude. He still loves me.
Part of me can’t believe it. But the other part, the part that always believed in magic when Brent and I were kids, is jumping up and down in absolute joy.
Chapter 17
Brent
In my apartment, Claire falls into my arms like she’s always meant to be there. She’s warm and soft against me, her skin rich with the scent of some floral perfume.
“Come, sweet girl.”
I sweep her up in my arms and take her to the couch. There, I tuck her into the butter-soft leather and arrange a blanket over her legs and her lap. “Are you okay?”
“No. No, I’m not.” She grabs the front of my shirt when I shift at her side. The grip of her hand won’t let me get even a few inches away from her. Not that I want to. “Just let me get you some water, baby girl. I’ll be back in a second.”
“Promise you’ll come right back?” Her voice is small and rough from her tears.
“I promise.”
In the kitchen, I quickly get what I need. A glass of cold water for her to drink and a piece of moistened paper towel to dry and cool her eyes.
When I come back into the living room, her beautiful brown eyes are trained on me. The force of that gaze is strong, but she looks so vulnerable, as if anything I say to her now has the power to either re-energize or destroy her.
“Here, take these.” I give her the water and the towel for her eyes.
Thirstily, she gulps water from the tall glass and then wipes her eyes with the piece of paper towel before balling it into her fist. She drops her head sideways onto the back of the couch. Her eyes fall closed for a moment, her long lashes fluttering wildly against her cheeks. When she opens them, hope shines from them so brightly that I want to give her anything to keep that look there.
“Tell me, Brent,” she says softly. “Tell me everything. Please.”
My chest heaves with a sigh. Where should I even start? Probably the beginning, at least as I remember it.
“In Syria, I woke up in a hospital bed after spending over a week in a coma.”
“Even now, all these years later, I still remember the antiseptic smell of the hospital room. The beeping machines that felt like they were measuring my life away by the second and just waiting for me to die and give up the bed to some other terribly wounded soldier. The day my eyes flew open for the first time in a week, I didn’t remember anything. I barely remembered my own name.”
“Oh my God!” Claire gasps and grabs my hand. She puts it against her heart. “I really did almost lose you.”
I squeeze her trembling fingers. “Almost, baby. But I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.”
Biting her lip, she nods. “Okay, okay.”
I force myself to go on with the story. “Hours later, I remembered my full name and that I was in the Marines but not much else. By the next day, I remembered more. Nothing earlier than the first few days I was in Syria, though. My life in Virginia was completely gone from my memory.”
“The doctors were hopeful, but between my PTSD and my memory loss, the Marines didn’t have much use for me. They shipped me back home and set me up with a job. A shrink helped me a lot with my post trauma stress, and after two full years, my nightmares finally stopped. These days, I keep working at the job I just fell into. Everything was pretty much routine.
“Until you came into my life,” I tell Claire.
“Back into your life, you mean.” She gives me a watery smile and latches harder to my hand.
“Yeah, that.” I return her smile. “Thanks to a certain stubborn woman.” Then my smile disappears. “I don’t remember anything from our past together. I only know what Tony told me earlier today. What I do know is that now, right now, the Brent Wilson I am today needs you. And I love you more than anything or anyone else in my life.”
“You love me?” Her smile comes back, still watery but sweet, and filled with even more hope. “I can barely believe it.”
When she doesn’t say anything else, my stomach tightens. “Can you...can you bring yourself to eventually feel the same way about me?”
“Oh my God, you foolish man!” She throws herself into my arms, pressing her damp and hot face into my throat. “I’ve never stopped loving you. If anything, I love you even more now.”
Thank God! Feeling her arms around me and the thudding wildness of her heart pressed to mine quiets the twisting snakes in my stomach. “I want to make a new life with you, Claire. No matter what it takes to make it happen.”
She pulls back and pushes the thick curls away from her face as she bites her plump lower lip. Her eyes are damp but shine brightly through the tears. My Claire. “We love each other, Brent. That’s the main reason everything will be just fine with you and me.” Her smile comes back a thousand times brighter. “Everything will actually be freakin’ fantastic!”
Chuckling, I sweep her up into my arms. Although I’ve never had a reason to believe anyone before now, I trust Claire. I believe her. Because she is truly mine.
Chapter 18
Claire
I’m not lying when I tell Brent how fantastic our life together will be. It’s already a miracle that he came back to me. And, oh my God, such a miracle that he lived through that bomb or whatever it was that nearly blew him to pieces back in Syria. Second chances don’t happen every day, so I know I’ll make the most of mine. And Brent will do the same.
“Things won’t be the same as they were before,” I tell him from the shelter of his arms. “They’ll be better.”
“Damn, I’m so glad we found each other again.” His blue eyes gaze ferociously down into mine. They glow with sincerity and love. And growing desire.
I lift my hand to touch his gorgeous face, tracing his high cheekbones and his firm and sensuous mouth. “Me too.”
He leans down and kisses me. Softy. Sweetly. It’s not long before I shift under him, rubbing my sensitized breasts against his clothed chest, wanting more. I open my lips under his and lick inside his mouth, moaning softly. My nipples suddenly feel tight, and my clit swells between my legs. I want him so, so badly.
He chuckles. “Message received, baby.”
Soon, he is kissing me roughly, just as rough as I am kissing him back. We tumble down into the sofa, Brent on his back and me on top of him. He tastes so good, like mint from the candy he must have eaten earlier, and man. My man. Finally. I fumble to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. The zipper slides down easily under my fingers, despite the thick ridge of his cock pressing hard against it.
I giggle into his mouth and grab his fat meat, stroking it up and down until he’s trembling with desire. “Is this for me?”
A low gasp shivers out of him. “Only for you, sweet girl.” He fucks into my tight grip while kissing me. At the same time, his hands work quickly to get off my shirt and bra. In no time, I’m topless, and Brent’s fingers are playing with my nipples, squeezing and pinching them. The room fills with the sound of our groans and gasps, the shifting push and pull of our clothed bodies.
“Fuck!” Brent pulls away with a groan.
“No!”
But he withdraws only enough to yank off his pants and t-shirt, then my own jeans and underwear. The smell of my pussy and his leaking schlong soak into the room. It’s intoxicating.
God, I’ve missed it. With a moan, I open my legs and he slides between them. His massive cock nudges at my dripping hole and drools all over me, painting my thin landing strip of hair with more wetness. I push down against his cock, aching to have it in me. He pulls away, though, teasing me.
“I love this.” He reaches down and strokes my clit. “I love how responsive you are to my touch. I love how well you take my dick.” His fingers rub me in slow and hard circles, then faster ones, spreading around the juices dribbling from my pussy.
My eyes roll back into my head as lightning strikes of need plunge into me. “Fuck me, Brent! Fuck me now!” I don’t want to wait another second to feel him inside me.
“Anything you want, baby.” With a grunt, he shoves his monster cock deep into my snatch.
“Oh! God! Brent!”
He’s so big. Even after fucking him for days, the stretch still stings a bit. But it hurts so good. All I want is
more.
Moaning his name, I latch my ankles around his back and meet him delicious thrust for delicious thrust. Ah! It feels so good! The couch shakes like a boat caught in the hurricane of our passion. It rocks and slams against the floor with every vicious ram of Brent’s huge fuck stick inside of me.
“My sweet girl!” Sweat drips down Brent’s back and slides under my clutching hands. He grunts as his cock sinks deeper into my soaking cunt, fucking me, making my body sing. “Baby, you feel so good!”
I close my eyes and arch my back as Brent buries his face in my neck and bites at my throat. The sensation of his teeth on my bare skin is heavenly, and shivers run down my spine as he clutches me in his arms. His muscled arms hold me steady and sure. His furred belly rubs against my softness. His dick reams my pussy.
Our bodies move together in a sensual, passionate rhythm, and I never want it to stop. As Brent’s hard pole plunges into me over and over again, I feel like I am floating away from my body, heaven-bound from the perfect sensation of him fucking me hard and deep and fast and long.
Brent tangles a hand in my hair and presses his mouth to mine. I moan, kissing him back fiercely.
“I want you to come around my dick, baby,” Brent growls. “I love it when you squeeze my meat with your sweet pussy.” He breaks the kiss and grabs my hips, pumping into me with reckless abandon. “Can you do that for me, sweet girl? Can you?”
“Yes, Brent! Yes!”
My clit rubs against his pubic bone with every thrust, and I gasp in ecstasy as my orgasm crests over me like a tidal wave. “Ah!”
Brent grunts and bucks, slamming his hips into mine. He shoves a rough hand between my thighs and rubs my clit, making me scream with pleasure. My whole body trembles and shakes as he fucks me deeply into the mattress.
“Come for me,” I whisper as I run a hand over Brent’s close-cropped head. “Come for me, baby! I want you to come inside of me!”
Brent arches his back and growls. He thrust in deep, burying his giant cock to the hilt, then pauses and groans as his thick and creamy seed spills into my pussy. He keeps pumping and pumping, squirting his thick and delicious white goo into me.